Mother Superior
The green world sat in silence, its surface a lush and verdant jungle bisected by meandering rivers and lakes. Its history could barely be made out, nature having reclaimed its territory, as the once bustling buildings were now little more than barely noticeable specks. Most of all however, it concealed the fear that had festered over only the last few days. Beneath the jungle canopy was a world unlike what could be seen from the outside. Thunderous footsteps rocked the jungle floor, interspersed with the roars and groans of the herd of horned beasts causing them. But they were not the only ones in fear, far from it, as they ran they knocked down trees, bushes, shrubs and even the occasional person. Mike had been running, minutes of running which felt like hours of torture, rocks pelting him and branches slashing against his arms as he covered his face. He had long since lost sight of his friend Martin and had no idea if any of their hired help had survived. When the roar that triggered this stampede that they were in, the Roughriders, the large and brash gang they hired for protection, immediately opened fire in the direction of the noise. While they had unknowingly only stirred up the herd even more, the other group who came, known as the Scalpels for their carried assortment of white knives, had started ahead of the others, probably having outrun or hidden from the herd. His brief moment of thought was, quite literally, shattered as a branch snapped into his face and knocked him down. Silence. Blackness. These were all his world was, an endless abyss with a deafening quiet piercing his ears. He tried to feel for his face, yet he could not feel his hands… ...nor his legs... ...not even his eyes... ...what was he...? Suddenly the world shook. As it did, so did the blackness, streaks of light piercing through with each shake. A dull roar seemed to accompany each shake. Was it breathing? Was he breathing? As the shaking continued a blinding pain began to wash over his mind, it rang it his ears and tore through his body from head to toe. While he began to feel, feel the wetness on his arm and chest and the stiffness in his legs, he also could hear, if only just. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay” he heard a feminine voice say before it gave way to rustling as she moved faster. All he could let out was a confused “Wha-?” as his recovering view was obstructed by a plethora of vines as the woman slowed to a stop. “Denel! I found one of them” she called out as the vines out of his view rustled and revealed a man in similar clothing to the woman. He stood of similar size to Mike but was decidedly more in shape, this being seen through his bloodied and ripped up coat arms. “Good, now we can kill him ourselves” Mike heard the man say, in a panic he tried to move but was stopped by the woman placing her boot on his chest and stepping half over him. “Not yet, we still need him or the other one to be able to get the ship off this hell hole” she said as she placated her friend. A pregnant pause overtook the trio in the vines, Mike fearing for his life, Denel barely keeping his anger under control and the woman, named Annalice, searching his face for a decision. As Denel moved to speak, he was interrupted by a rustling near them as another set of vines parted to reveal... ...Martin... ...held at gunpoint... Behind him stood a cut, bruised and clearly out of breath member of the Roughriders. Seeing the two come out of the shroud of vines, Denel similarly grabbed Mike in a similar fashion despite his cries of agony at his legs being jostled out of their stiffness. “Well, well, well, ain’t this ma lucky day, tryin to find a grave for this piece of crap” he paused to smack Martin in the head with the barrel of his M6 “and I find the other one too” “So how about you” he nodded to Denel “hand over the soon-to-be corpse and I leave you guys be” Silence once again took over the vines, the tension almost becoming a palpable mist as both groups tunnel visioned onto each other. What they failed to notice in the tension was the shifting, the subtle and quiet rustles and moves of the vines, almost occuring in practiced, methodical fashion… ...the vines around them tightening around them… ...and one in particular orchestrating it all. Back in their standoff, the tension began getting to those involved, the Roughrider having grown tired of inaction and moved to throw Martin forward as a human shield as he took aim to shoot. As he did, Denel and Annalice dove to the floor and back to try and throw off his shot, but they didn’t need to… As soon as he had made his move he was dead. The reason came just as quick as a thick, powerful, scaled appendage wrapped around his chest, neck and head, crushing them with seemingly no care at all, not even for the blood seeping through the gaps. The other four stood in shock, watching in horror as the body was crushed and drawn into the canopy of the trees, but their attention was shifted as the face of their ‘savior’ had come into view. Black beady eyes on a narrow and sharp head stared into them before letting out a shrill, whistling hiss at which the whole tree began to stir, ‘vines’ all around them beginning to shift and hiss. 'RUN' It was not said, not even gestured, but an instinctual voice inside all of them tore to the front of their minds and drove their legs without them even knowing. Even Martin and Mike sprinted out as fast as they could, their limbs crying in protest but the adrenaline in their body silencing the pain. The same being true for all of them as they ran, not knowing for how long or in what direction they ran, failing to see the green of the jungle give way to the reds and greys of a new crop of trees. What none of them heard or saw was the blindingly fast strike at them from the tree, as they ran one of the ‘vines’ lashed out, it’s pointed skull being noticeably more pronounced and sharper than the others. As it did, it missed most of them… ...but hit one of them true. Derel has been stabbed through his right shoulder, severing the artery from behind as he ran. Reeling from the hit he stumbled forward as the air in his lungs was slammed out of him as the blood began to pour out faster and faster with each step he ran, soon causing him to cry out in pain, finally getting the attention of the others. Letting out a small breath he collapsed, his blood pooling beneath him as he struggled to breath, weakness taking him. He could barely even make out the shapes of the others as they crouched over him, trying to keep pressure on the fist sized hole in his shoulder. He could just barely hear Annalice’s panic and grief at his injury. “Denel! Den place don’t do this, not now” she cried as she tried to get him to look her in the eye, his body slowly going limp as her tears flooded out. With a final bout of strength Denel managed to turn his head just enough to look into her eyes, a look passing between them before he finally fell, lifelessly to the jungle floor. Deep in the red trees, the architect of their suffering watched in silence, breathing in low, long and cautious breaths; her grey and red scales hiding her perfectly in the trees while her piercing orange eyes danced across the well known jungle, planning her next move. Watching closely, she saw them start to move again, having left a sort of mound behind them as they headed deeper into the forest and towards the mountain. Back with the now trio, the mood was glum at best. Annalice had gone completely silent at the head of the group, using the large knives she took from Derel to cut through the stray branches and bushes in their path, paying no heed to the grunts and sounds of pain coming from the other two. As the hours trudged on and the thick, red forest never seemed to end, Annalice finally stopped, the two behind her collapsing as she did. “We’re going to have to go around” she announced Not knowing what she was talking about, Martin and Mike both looked towards her and found the problem. Three massive trees were collapsed in front of them, the only way through possibly being the crushed red canopy at one end. “Look can we j-” Martin was quickly cut off with a knife to his throat as Annalice whispered to him in a quiet rage. “''You'' got him killed, it’s your fault! Both of you!” she whispered as she shot a deadly glare at Mike and then back to Martin. “Now get up and move or I’ll leave you as bait” she finished as she stood up and made to climb and crouch between the branches. What they missed were the signs, the grief, anger and threats had clouded their minds and blinded them. They never saw the large footsteps near the ripped out bases of the trees, nor did they see the indents made by the claws of something much larger than what they had seen so far. Above all however, they never saw a lone, ebony black claw hidden in the canopy, gently glinting in the fading sunlight… ...and it remained so... ...until Martin made his stumbling move to climb after a fear stricken Mike. Just as he placed his feet on one of the last branches to get to the other side, Martin felt a searing pain erupt from his leg as he felt the skin and flesh get suddenly sliced clean open. Crying out in agony he attempted to scramble down, falling in the process and never having even caught a glimpse of the now non-existent claw. Hearing his cries, Mike was torn. He could follow Annalice and try to escape with Martin as bait or he could try and help Martin while he had the chance. He decided that if Martin was capable of being used as bait so she could live, then he would be too, therefore he scrambled back into the canopy and got to Martin, shushing him and covering his mouth as he bound a cloth, tightly, above his knee to stem the blood flow. Outside the canopy Annalice had long since lost sight of the two in the canopy, and with Martin’s cry she was certain that they were all but dead. Taking her chances she made a break for the base of the nearby mountains, hoping to find something, a bunker, a cave, even a random hole in the ground, just somewhere to keep safe. Yet as she ran, she noticed the forest begin to thin, the rocky slopes at the base of the mountains finally becoming clear. As hope bubbled up inside her she ran faster and could even make out what looked to be a building of sorts, built into the mountain side. A small smile began to adorn her face at the thought of escaping this world as memories of the others began to flood her mind. But she never smelled the stench, not until it was too late. The deeper she ran the clearer it became, a grotesque rotting smell pierced her senses as she continued onwards. It eventually got to the point where she had to crouch low and keep near the ground to get away from it, but as soon as she did, she saw it... ...tatters of black leather and brown cloth... In most cases she wouldn’t pay a second thought… ...but then she saw the telltale white blades... ...the tacky, fake studs on the leather jackets... A ball of ice formed in the pit of her stomach as she slowed to a stop and looked up and around her. She hadn’t escaped at all, she had come to a feeding ground and for the first time she heard it, she felt it. Slowly turning around she was met with the sight of the beast that had started this all, she didn’t guess it did, she saw its eyes and knew it did. In a final act of defiance she slashed out with Derel’s blades, but it was for naught as the creature grabbed her with a clawed hand and killed her instantly by driving its claw into her neck and out through her back. The world for them had gone silent for a while, whatever was near them had moved, they heard it. Not long after Annalice had run did it make its move, giving a leisurely but focused chase. By the time they considered moving the sun had set and night began to take over, Martin was barely alive, the blood loss having driven him to delusions of dark, beasts and rambling about his need to run away. Mike too was all but broken, he felt weak, sick and could barely even stand on his own and neither could even make out the other aside from their voices. “We’re dying here aren’t we” Martin asked in a quiet and scared tone Mike made a move to try and reassure him but as he did, nothing came out. Just a ragged sob wracked his body, followed by countless others as he cried. Cried for his dying friend, cried for his own inevitable death and for the blood that was on their hands. After a quiet moment Mike looked into the blackness of the sky and for the first time since he was a child on Mars, he prayed. “Please, please just end it, end it all!” he cried out as he devolved back into sobs. In his grief and sorrow, he never even felt his prayer answered as it grabbed him and dragged him into the dark of the forest. Martin’s mind had long since become a scarred shell, tormented by hallucinations of his greatest fears, arachnids devouring him in terrifying lucid dreams and watching his family slaughtered in front of him. The terror and helplessness having shattered his ability to make sense of the world around him as everything became a nightmare to him. As the tree he had been in for the last few hours was moved away, he fell lamely backwards and stared lamely to his side... ...and there it was. Something new and yet it triggered a primordial and overriding fear, blocking out all the other horrors around him. Its pale red face and neck were now blood red pools streaking down its face and neck and leading to its body, the grey having given way to a darker and more ghastly shade, more akin to a shifting shadow than the reptile it belonged to. Finally, as his body involuntarily evacuated itself, did he lay his eyes on the demons, what were a bright orange were now a glowing, deep and dark red, boring a hole into his soul. This was no creature, no monster or even an abomination, this thing, was Satan incarnate, a living demon. In his final moments, he could do nothing but cower as he held his cross tightly and slipped away into the night. And once again did the world fall silent, the torment that had transpired would never found, and all anyone would see would be the lush and beautiful forests... ...and never the demons that lived below.